1887
by Neverland14
Summary: Molly is a normal woman. Well, as normal as a woman who looks at dead bodies can be considered in 1887. But when she is sucked into the world of criminals and the mastermind Morality, (completely by accident I might add) to which Sherlock and Watson are a part of, how far is she willing to go to prove to them and herself that she can play the game?
1. Chapter 1

She was different than everyone; she was something entirely new to him. She was something he had never been before. She acted differently and it intrigued him. She intrigued him more than he would ever admit.

The year was 1887 and Molly Hooper is working at St. Bart's Hospital. Not as a nurse as most women were at the time. No, she was the pathologist; day in and day out, she was looking at dead people. It was tiring to have to explain to people, that 'Yes I am Doctor Hooper. I did not get this job because my parents were rich psychopaths. Yes, I am a woman' every time someone meet her at the morgue.

She had been working in tandem with Scotland Yard for about a year now. If there was a body that needed looking at, it was sent to her to inspect.

"What happened to this one, Molly?" Detective Inspector Lestrade asked, looking at the body of a young woman. "We had one of the men check it out but I thought you should look at her. He said she choked on her food." Molly spent a few moments studying the woman lying dead on the table.

"Did you swab the inside of her moth, by any chance?"

"No" he said, surprised "Why would we do that?"

"Oh, it's just that if she was poisoned, her stomach acid might act up. Does she have acid reflex?"

Lestrade shook his head and handed Molly a piece of litmus paper. She opened the mouth and stuck the little slip of paper in. The little blue paper turned a bright red.

"She either had a severe case of acid reflex that came out of nowhere or she was poisoned, Lestrade."

"Thanks. I should go tell the others. What would we do without?" he said as he ran out the door. She just shook her head. Sometimes these policemen could be so closed minded.

She often got messages from the police force or from her mother. Her mother would write in her usually cheerful fashion, urging Molly to find a husband and make some grandchildren. Molly loved her mother, but it's hard to love a woman entirely when she liked to set you up and nag you about how you weren't married or being courted by 'a fine young man'.

So she was not surprised that morning when she received a telegram. She was in the middle of inspecting a body and as her gloves had blood all over them, she waited before she looked at the telegram. She put the body 'away' and placed her bloody gloves in the sink. The telegram read as follows:

Dr. Hooper

I should like to use your laboratory at St. Bart's Hospital for my research. I shall send my friend, Dr. Watson to meet you there. Thank you.

Sherlock

Molly looked down at it with a confused look. She didn't know any Sherlocks and the only person she knew _of _with that name was...

'NO…..You don't think...no, no, it can't be…' she thought 'It can't be _the _Sherlock Holmes. Can it?'

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"There's someone here to see you, Dr. Hooper" the nurse said "Should I let them in? He says his name is John Watson."

Molly just nodded. This was either a practical joke or the actual Sherlock Holmes, who was known far and wide as a consulting detective, needed her lab and possibly her skills.

"Hello. I'm Doctor Watson" a man said, entering the lab. A look of confusion crossed his face when he realized that it was a woman, not a man, standing before him. He quickly covered his emotion and went to shake Molly's hand. He was just slightly taller than her and was dressed quite casually in an old looking suit. Molly looked down at her shirt stained with some blood and a patched up skirt. Along with the messy bun that was holding her hair; she could have been mistaken as a homeless person or even a crazy one.

"Sorry for my appearance. I was working." She said, sheepishly.

"It's fine. Sherlock comes in and out of Baker Street with all types of costumes." He replied. There was a moment of silence as he took in all of the facts; mainly, that this 'Doctor Hooper' was a woman. He gave a little smile. "Bet Sherlock wasn't expecting that'

"Thank you for meeting me." Watson said "You work is quite famous, Doctor Hooper."

"My work?" she scoffed "It's probably infamous because a man is not the one cutting the cadavers. People seem to get very excitable about my gender; you know, because I'm not a man. Oh, and call me Molly. Doctor Hopper is too formal."

"Thank you. Call me John."

"So, why does Sherlock need to use this laboratory?"

"He isn't allowed to so any more experiments because the last on burnt a huge hole through the carpet. And since you are a pathologist and are connected to Scotland Yard, it would be easy for him to look at the dead bodies and test his theories. "

"Ok. Where is Sherlock now?"

"Well, he's on a case and..." Suddenly the door was pushed open by a small boy He ran in and gave John a piece of paper.

"He said it was urgent sir" the boy said before either Molly or John could say anything, then ran out.

"What does it say?" Molly asked, as John hurriedly read the paper. His face transformed to a small look of confusion.

"It's from Sherlock. We have to meet him at the train station." John said, running out as fast as he could.

"We?" Molly asked dawdling behind him. She followed him out onto the street, to see him running. "Hurry up! Sherlock hates it when I'm late!" As if by some instinct, her legs began to carry her after John.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why did he want us to meet him here?" Molly asked. They had been standing on the corner of Berkley Square and Borden Street for about an hour. The boy who had delivered the letter had run back giving them another slip of paper. Molly was unsure if Sherlock was even going to show up.

"I've learned to stop questioning him. He arrives exactly when he means to." John replied, trying to sound patient. The truth was, he had never waited this long for Sherlock.

"That's the problem. His arrival doesn't coincide with ours." Molly signed. "Look John, why do I even have to be here? I have a job to do…"

"You patience is greatly appreciated. Now hop into the carriage" said a voice behind Molly. She quickly turned around to see a tall man in a light brown suit. He was carrying a cane and his curly black hair was under a bowler hat.

"Oh, hello Sherlock" John said, smiling. "This is.."

"I know who she is. Now Doctor Hooper and John, would you mind getting into the carriage."

Both John and Molly turned to see that a carriage had ridden up right behind them. 'How did he do that?' Molly wondered as she climbed into the carriage. She sat next to John and Sherlock sat across.

"Where were you?"John asked as the carriage started to move.

"Case" Sherlock replied, looking out of the window.

"How did you know she was Doctor Hooper?" John asked, motioning to Molly.

Sherlock just rolled his eye. "Firstly her appearance; she has splotches of blood on her shirt. Her hair is a mess, and no woman in her right mind would come outside looking as disheveled as she does. She doesn't care that much about her appearance because she knows society doesn't accept her. She is also wearing boots; no woman with any fashion sense and money would wear old boots all day. No, she works on her feet. She is poor and can't afford to look pretty. Her appearance makes her look like a homeless woman."

Molly just frowned. She knew all of the things he had said were true, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt her pride.

"Sherlock! Don't say things like that!" John chastised "You hurt her feelings."

"Oh come on John! She didn't say anything about it." Sherlock said, turning to look at John. "She doesn't care about what I said."

Molly could tell that if she didn't say something there was going to be a huge argument.

"No, John it's fine" she tried to say without sounding too hurt "Why do you want my help anyway, Sherlock?"

"I have been told by _certain people_" he said, staring John down "that I am no longer allowed to experiment in the house. So I thought I could use your lab, if it was ok with you."

"Are you asking?" Molly questioned

"Yes. Molly Hooper, can I use your laboratory to do experiments?"

"Do you just need the lab or….do you need me too?" she blushed.

Sherlock sat there in a moment of silence. "What could I need from you?"

"I don't know." Molly replied, looking out of the window. She noticed that they were going exceptionally fast than what was normal for a ride in London and all of its traffic.

"Why are we going so fast?" she said, trying to stay calm. John looked out of his window and saw their accelerate speed. By the time both Molly and John turned their heads back and heard the thud, Sherlock already had his gun out and was loading it.

"What are you doing?!" John said, trying to take the gun out of Sherlock's hands.

"Morality and his men are trying to kill me. The driver has been poisoned and fell off a couple of seconds ago."

"No one's driving?!" John said. Molly was just trying not to panic.

"Molly will be soon. She's the only one of us that doesn't have a weapon." That was when they heard the gunshots. Molly stuck her head out f the window to see another carriage behind them filled with three burly men who were all, coincidently, shooting at Molly.

"Ok, so I wait for them to reload and climb out onto the driver's seat. Is that the plan?"

Sherlock just nodded. "I will give you directions once you get up there. Oh and put this on" he said, giving her his hat "They will try to hit your head and will most likely just hit the top part of the hat that doesn't connect to your skull."

"That's reassuring" Molly said sarcastically. She opened the door and slowly worked her foot to be on the driver's platform while the other was still inside. She used her arm strength to pull herself on the platform. She sat down and grabbed the reins.

"What happens when we run into traffic?" she yelled back to the carriage

"Hope they get out of the way" Sherlock replied back.

Molly nodded and kept driving. She heard the gunshots behind her, but didn't dare turn around. She kept going as fast as she could. She could hear the other drivers cursing as she passed them. She just kept urging the horses to go as fast as they could.

"I have an idea!" Sherlock yelled, sticking his head out of the window.

"I'm open to anything!" she yelled back as a bullet went through her hat.

"Keep going till you get to the Hungerford Bridge. Then we can get out and make the carriage go on."

"How are we going to get out without them shooting us?"

"Leave that to me!"

Molly kept driving keeping her eyes on the road. Sherlock turned his head out of the door. As he had deduced, there was a street market in the street ahead. He told Molly to keep driving until they were in the middle of the bridge ahead and then stop. John nodded and leaned out of the open door. They both began knocking things over. As the carriage slowed because of all of the things clogging its way, Sherlock jumped out and began throwing things to the ground. He tipped over an orange stand and a carton full of watermelon along with others to clog the street. Soon the gunshots could be heard.

"Get out of the carriage." He yelled over people's screams. They both got down as fast as they could. Sherlock then hit the horses. Within seconds the horses were off and running again. Sherlock ran while Molly and John followed him. He stopped in the middle of the bridge. He looked both ways to see two carriages coming from both ways, shooting at them.

"We have to jump off." Sherlock said hurriedly, as he began to get on the edge of the bridge.

"What?! We could be killed!" Molly yelled. The gunshots were getting louder and closer.

"Listen, Molly, I know we just meet but I need you to trust me on this." John just stood watching Molly's face. He could see, along with Sherlock, that Molly was scared. But John also understood that following Sherlock was probably the best option. He gave Molly a pat on the back and went to climb up on the bridge.

"I can't jump off a bridge." Molly said "I can't do it, Sherlock."

"Look, Molly" he said putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning down so they were eye to eye "I need you to trust me. If those men catch up to us, it will be worse than anything you could imagine. So could you please jump off of this bridge with me?"

Molly sighed and gave a nod. Sherlock helped her up so all three of them were standing in a line. Sherlock gave a quick nod and all three of them jumped.

Molly could feel her heart go into her throat as she felt gravity take over, dragging her towards the dark water of the Thames.


	3. Chapter 3

Cold; she felt so cold. Her lungs screaming for air; but she knew if she tried to breath it would just get worse. John and Sherlock hadn't gone as deep as she had. They seemed to have forgotten that she was wearing a heavy skirt and others articles of clothing that was weighing her down. Deeper and deeper she went, losing all sense of direction. Suddenly she felt a firm grip on her hand, dragging her toward the surface.

Molly came up sputtering water. She began to cough and tried to breathe as normally as she could. Her heart was thumping within her chest, rushing the blood to her cold body.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't swim?" Sherlock asked, holding her afloat. He sounded angry, but there was also a tone of concern.

"You didn't ask" she sputtered back, between couching fits.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sherlock whispered, so John couldn't hear him "You could have died"

"I didn't though. I had to jump off of the bridge; you said so yourself. Now can we please get out of the water?"

Sherlock gave Molly one last look and began to swim towards the edge of the river. John was already ahead of them and made it there before them. John got out first, and then Sherlock and John worked Molly out of the water. They all slowly made their way back to the streets of London.

By the time they had gotten to Baker Street, the sun had gone down. Both John and Sherlock had insisted that she come to Baker Street to warm up before she went home. They were greeted by the smiling face of an old woman. Her blonde hair was peppered with gray.

"What adventure did you boys go on today?" she asked as she let them through the door, not very surprised that they were all soaking wet. "Who's your friend?" She asked Sherlock, pointing to Molly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes "Mrs. Hudson, Molly Hooper. Molly Hooper, Mrs. Hudson" he said, making his way up the stairs. Molly shook Mrs. Hudson hand and made her way to the top of the stairs, dripping water the whole way.

The room that they steeped into was littered around with newspapers and there was a microscope on the table. There was a chair and a couch. The fireplace was light and on the mantel was a lovely skull. Mrs. Hudson went and grabbed a blanket for all of them. Molly tried to protest, but it didn't work very well considering she was shivering. Molly wrapped herself tightly and settled down on the couch.

"So, does anyone want tea? I'm making it. You should have some Molly, dear." Mrs. Hudson yelled from the kitchen.

"I'm fine" she replied her teeth chattering. Sherlock gave a look around before settling in the chair. John went to stand by the table to look at the newspapers. Soon Mrs. Hudson came in with four cups of tea. She handed one to everyone; when Molly tried to thank her she just gave her a motherly pat on the arm and sat down next to Molly on the couch.

"Why didn't you clean today?" Sherlock asked, looking around at the mess.

"I've have tried to clean before dear. The last time I tried I was told that I had thrown something 'important' away."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave a frustrated sign. "It was important and I needed it."

"It was a jar of thumbs." John said, looking at his friend.

"Thumbs? As in, human thumbs?" Molly turned to look at Sherlock who was scowling out the window.

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "You would be surprised the things he brings home. I'm just glad he went to talk to that Dr. Hooper. It means he will be bringing less things home. I do wish Sherlock would have invited him in for a spot of tea. We should make a good impression on poor Dr. Hooper before Sherlock frightens him away. Are you related to Dr. Hooper, Molly?"

"Yes, well, I _am_ Dr. Hooper." Molly replied blushing. Mrs. Hudson nearly spit out her tea. She gave Molly a look as if she was trying to make sure she heard it right. Then a smile brightened her face. She gave a loud laugh and patted Molly on the arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie. Naturally, in this day and age I assumed Dr. Hooper was a man. I'm glad you are Dr. Hooper. Sherlock would have a lot more of explaining to do if you were just some girl he found on the street or something. I mean, you three have obviously had an exciting day. All Sherlock has been talking about for the past week is Dr. Hooper. He's very interested in your work. Most places have never heard of you, but Sherlock has a way of finding things out. He thinks you are very smart. I am surprised the amount he has talked about you. Not in the normal sense of course. He just strums at his violin, but I can tell he was intrigued. He even said that you might be able to bring Scotland Yard to their senses.

"Mrs. Hudson, I should like some more tea." Sherlock interrupted.

Mrs. Hudson looked at Molly's blushing face and back to Sherlock. "Seems I've embarrassed him" she whispered to Molly.

The peaceful silence was broken by the sound of the door creaking open.

A tall man with short, light brown hair strode in. Everyone turned to face him. Suddenly, everyone except Molly became very tense. Sherlock's frown deepened; John stood up straighter; Mrs. Hudson looked desperately around at the state of the room.

"Hello Mycroft" Sherlock sneered, dislike dripping from his voice.

"Hello dear brother. How are you this fine evening?" Mycroft replied, not even blinking.

"What do you want?" Sherlock snapped.

"Don't worry; I am not here to speak about you."

"Then who are we here to talk about?" John asked, getting in between the staring contest that was taking place.

"Ms. Hooper to be exact" he said. Everyone turned to stare at her. "Her flat has been ransacked."


	4. Chapter 4

"The room was in complete shambles." Mycroft said looking around at everyone in the room. He had taken a seat on the couch while his brother was sitting on the chair across from him glaring. Molly sat in-between Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft on the couch.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Mrs. Hudson said, her hand resting on Molly's shoulder.

"We managed to save some of the possessions but we couldn't get everything. I have some people at her flat right now collecting what we can. I suggest Ms. Hooper find a place to stay."

"Did he leave a note?" Sherlock asked. Everyone turned to look at him. Mycroft was the only one who didn't look confused. "He?" John asked.

"This was obviously the work of Moriarty. He treats everything like a game, so of course, he would want to gloat."

Mycroft pulled a small folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket. Sherlock was about to grab it when Mycroft handed it to Molly. "It's addressed to you" he said. For the first time in Sherlock's life he had a look of shock upon his face. It didn't last long and he swiftly got up and stood behind Molly, ready read the note over her shoulder.

"Read it aloud sweetie." Mrs. Hudson whispered to Molly. Molly cleared her throat and slowly unfolded the letter.

"**Dear Ms. Hooper,**

**Sorry to have to destroy your lovely home but Sherlock was being too persistent. We are playing a game of tag, you see, and I don't want to be caught. I hope he understands the message. **

**Sincerely,**

**J.M**

**P.S. Tell Christine and George that I said hello. **"

Molly read aloud. Her face turned white and her hands began to tremble. Sherlock looked down at her with concern as Mrs. Hudson began to console her.

"What is it?"

"Christine is my sister's name. George is my brother's name. He knows who my family is." She turned to look at Sherlock, fear emulating off of her body "How does he know who my family is?"

"It's a coincidence." Sherlock said and began to walk away.

"What if it's not?" Molly said, making Sherlock turn around. "What happens then? What if…" Molly couldn't even finish her sentence. She was trying very hard not to cry. Sherlock leaned down and stared straight into her eyes.

"It's going to be ok but I need you to trust me again. Can you do that?" he whispered. Molly nodded. Somehow when she was looking at the blue orbs that were Sherlock's eyes, she didn't feel as scared. Molly watched Sherlock walk to Mycroft, still unsure.

"Where is Molly going to stay?" John asked, looking at the faces around the room. When no one answered he looked at Molly. "Do you have any family or friends that you can stay with?"

Molly just shook her head. "The few women that do help at St. Bart's are married and have children. I don't have any friends that live near London. My mother doesn't have the room for me and my brother doesn't live in London."

"What about your sister?"

"We don't exactly get along. Besides, she has children to take care of. She doesn't need another mouth to feed."

Suddenly everyone began to talk at once. Mycroft and Sherlock tried to brainstorm places where Molly could stay. It soon turned into an argument. Mrs. Hudson and John went between discussing housing options and trying to calm Sherlock and Mycroft down. Molly tried to intervene, but no one could hear her meager voice over the noise. After many failed attempts to talk, she stood up and gave a loud whistle.

"Excuse me!" she yelled as everyone got quite and stared at her. "Do I get any say? I mean, you are talking about where _I _am going to live, so I think I should have a choice. I don't want to infringe on any of your personal spaces and I don't want to be set up with family friends. I can find somewhere to stay. Now, as I understood what Mycroft said earlier, I don't have many things that were not damaged. What possessions do I still have?" Molly asked Mycroft.

"The room that seemed to be your office wasn't harmed at all. Your books are unharmed and papers are unharmed. The safe is ok too. You have one chair that is ok and your bed sheets and clothes are unharmed. Everything else is in shambles."

"Ok. I believe I have enough money saved up to rent a flat for a little while. If Mrs. Hudson doesn't mind…" Molly said as she opens the door and turned to look at Mrs., Hudson "I would like to rent 221C."

"How did you know there was another flat open?" John asked.

"I may not be a super genesis" Molly said, her gaze resting on Sherlock "but I do have eyes." John and Mrs. Hudson watched Molly leave with a smile on their faces. Mycroft looked over to gage his brother's reaction. Hr could have sworn he saw the sides of Sherlock's mouth twitch upwards into a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Soon things began to form into a routine. Molly would get up early and grab some toast before she went to work. John and Sherlock would wake up soon after and go on their adventures. Mrs. Hudson would stay at the flat and do whatever it was she did in her free time. Sometimes Sherlock would come to St. Bart's with a body, or would come to experiment. Molly soon found herself having to bring things back to the flat like eyeballs and a severed head. Everyone except for Sherlock would eat dinner in the evenings. Then they did whatever, although it usually involved telling Sherlock to stop doing some kind of odd and usually annoying activity like setting fire to a clump of grass.

Molly had gotten used to the sound of the violin being played at odd times of the day. She had become accustomed to the messy way Sherlock and John's flat was arranged; there were odd objects like a skull and scientific equipment lying everywhere. The truth of the matter was the Sherlock got incredibly bored. Molly had even come home one day to see that he had shot the wall several times out of his boredom.

"Molly, dear there is someone at the door to see you." Mrs. Hudson said, interrupting the Saturday lunch session at 221B. Molly quickly wiped the minuscule remnants of food from her face and made her way down the stairs. A blonde woman with a blue dress and coat, turned at the sound of the stairs. She had a blue hat on her head and judging by her clothes she seemed to be quite well off.

"Well Molly Hooper, it seems you have been taking care of yourself" the woman said kindly, pulling Molly into a hug.

"I haven't seen you in such a long time Ms. Mary Marston!" Molly replied, hugging her old friend from school. "Or is it 'Mrs.' now?"

Mary laughed "I'm still as single as I was in secondary school. What about you? Any man sweeping you off your feet?"

"God no." Molly stepped back to look at her friend. "What have you been doing with your life?"

"Well, I moved from Sussex to peruse teaching. I want to teach primary school; maybe art or music or something of that sort. What about you?"

"I earned my doctrine and am now a pathologist. I do post-mortems."

Mary just stared at her friend. "Well, you've been quite busy, I see."

"Molly?" Mrs. Hudson called from the top of the stairs "why don't you invite your friend in?"

"Shall we, Ms. Marston?" gesturing to the doorway.

"I'd be honored, Ms. Hooper" Mary walked through and went up the stairs after Molly.

"This is my old friend Mary Marston." Molly introduced to the group. Mrs. Hudson, as usual, was trying to make Mary as comfortable as possible, asking if she wanted lunch, offering her a chair. John smiled, greeting Mary very warmly. Sherlock, of course, was ignoring everything and went to play his violin.

"It's really nice to meet you all" Mary smiled, giving some glances in John's direction.

After a moment of silence Molly said "I was about to go out. Would you like to come with me Mary?" Mary nodded.

"Mind if I tag along for awhile?" John asked, sounding a little flustered. "Someone" he jerked his head towards Sherlock "is on a very important case and doesn't want to be disturbed."

Molly nodded her head and the three of them made their way out of the door.

By the end of the outing it was painfully obvious that John and Mary were infatuated with each other. So when John offered to go get coffee, Molly made the excuse that she had to take that she needed to relax. She had been working odd hours at St. Bart's so it wasn't really that far from the truth. She slowly walked upstairs, making sure Mary and John had gone on their way, and opened the door.

"Sherlock, I'm…" she looked in to see that there was a woman sitting on Sherlock's lap wearing a white camisole that was partially covered by a corset and a set of calf-length drawers. Her long, dark hair was in a fashionable bun. Her blue eyes and her rose red lips contrasted each other making her a stunning woman. Sherlock seemed to have been talking with the woman. Molly saw a slight blush rise to his cheeks. The woman just looked at Molly and laughed.

"Who can this little dove be?" the woman said, rising from Sherlock's lap. The woman walked towards Molly and pulled her through the doorway. The woman shut the door and began to circle Molly.

"Nice figure, though not perfect. The color of her hair is rather nice; full lisps, not lacking too much in the size of breasts, and look at those eyes! They are like melting chocolate. It would be hard to say 'no' to those eyes."

By now Molly's face was tomato red. She crossed her arms over her chest feeling extremely self-conscious.

"Who are you?" Molly asked timidly.

"That's Irene Adler and she was just leaving." Sherlock intervened.

"Oh, I can't leave yet" Irene smiled. "I haven't truly begun to even meet this delicate little flower here." She pointed to Molly and began to circle again. "She intrigues me. She's liked a ripe fruit that has yet to be…" she grabbed Molly's face and pulled it towards hers so that Molly's ear was about to touch Irene's lips. "_picked_"

"Get out." Sherlock said his voice low.

"I was just having some fun." Irene mocked innocence.

"I said get out. I want to be left alone."

"Would you like me to leave?" Molly timidly asked.

"Oh, look how timid the little dove is."

"Both of you leave." Sherlock said sounding angrier.

Molly turned to leave to leave when Irene caught her arm. "I'm not leaving and neither is she." Molly tried to resist and tell Irene that leaving was a really good idea.

"God Molly why do you have to attract trouble" Sherlock huffed, mainly to himself.

"What?" Molly said sounding hurt. Suddenly the room went very still.

"You heard what I said. You attract trouble. If you hadn't burst through the door-"

"I didn't burst through" Molly whispered.

"I don't care! If you hadn't been here then maybe she" he pointed to Irene "would have cooperated. If you hadn't interrupted than I could have gotten something done! You are so much more trouble than you are worth! I mean, can't you ever do anything right?! I want you to leave! So leave!"

"But.."

"LEAVE!" Sherlock roared. Molly stared wide eyed at Sherlock, tears forming in her eyes and beginning to fall down her face. Sherlock's face changed to regret when he saw her reaction.

"Molly.." She turned and ran as fast as she could down the steps and into the street. She ran down the block and around the corner, not caring where she went. She just wanted to get away from him. She didn't even mind the stares she got as the tears slide down her face. Irene watched from the window.

"You really shouldn't have done that."


	6. Chapter 6

Molly didn't seem to care where she was going. The tears in her eyes made it hard to see anyways. She just kept running and running, not caring where she ended up; the farther away from Sherlock the better. "Why do I let him get to me? Why do his comments matter so much?" she thought aloud. But even before she was done saying it, she knew the answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry" she let out as she collided with another person.

"It's fine." A dark haired man said. He had an Irish accent and his brown eyes seemed like chocolate. He was wearing a nice suit and caring a briefcase. He seemed to be on his way to work. He looked down at her tear stained face. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, I'm fine." She wiped her face failing to make her face look like she hadn't been crying.

"No you're not. You're not fine." He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Molly just stared at him and sighed. "Yes please."

"I'm Jim." He remarked as they began to walk down the street, still holding her hand.

"I'm Molly" she smiled. She liked Jim. He seemed naturally interested in what she had to say. He didn't dismiss anything or scoff like _someone _did. He genially seemed to care. Jim ushered her into a café down the street and insisted on buying her some lunch. They talked for hours about everything from banking to the moon. He even let her rant about _a certain someone_. She didn't dare mention him by name, fearing that Jim would have heard of him. Jim didn't seem to mind that the man remained nameless. When it was time to say goodbye, Molly found herself wishing that she could spend more time with Jim.

"So, uh, Molly, I was wondering if you would want to have lunch with me sometime soon."

"Oh. Sure" Molly's face became red and she gave a nervous laugh. "How about Wednesday?"

Jim's face beamed with happiness. "That's great!"

Jim watched Molly as she walked down the block waiting till she was out of sight. The moment she disappeared the smile faded from his face. His eyes no longer seemed like chocolate; now they looked like the cold, hard dirt. "Stupid girl" he muttered and walked away.

Molly arrived back at 221 B around dinner time. She was in a happy daze and barley seemed to realize she was back.

"What's with the happy mood?" Mary asked smiling. Mary and John were both sitting at the table, right next to each other. Molly noted their close proximity. 'Apparently, Mary and John have become rather acquainted with each other.' Molly thought, giggling. "It's nothing." Molly sat down across from them and looked at the table. "What are we eating for dinner?"

"Not sure." John replied as Mrs. Hudson walked briskly into the room. "Have any of you seen Sherlock?"

Molly shook her head. "No. Why?"

"Well it's not like he to disappear for this ling with leaving a note or something. I'm getting a little worried."

"He said he was going to some pub down the street." John said "He said he had to investigate something."

"Where did he say he was going?" Molly asked"

"Some place called 'The Three Crowns'. I've never heard of it" John added in an afterthought.

Molly jumped up and ran towards the door. "Where the hell are you going?" John yelled after her.

"No time to explain it. I'll be back soon!" Molly ran down the street. Twilight was threatening and the light was fading. 'I hope Sherlock hasn't gotten himself into too much trouble.'

The Three Crowns was widely known around London by criminals and people trying to avoid Scotland Yard. It was a low joint on the East End hidden between two allies. There was a small door that one would go through to get in. Molly knocked. A gruff voice opened a slit near the top of the door.

"Wha d'ya wan?" an obviously drunk man asked. Molly could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I wish to talk to Irene." Molly wasn't sure if she was right, but she had a hunch Sherlock's disappearance had something to  
do with Irene.

"Wha-ever" the man replied and opened the door. Down a series of steps Molly went and into a dingy bar. The lighting was terrible but Molly could still feel everyone's eyes on her. She slowly walked up to the barman.

"Can you tell me where I can find Irene?"

"What for?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Molly became flustered and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "Business"

The man gave her a weird look and pointed to a door at the back. "Go through there. She should be the third one on the left. Molly thanked him and made her way through the door. Nothing could have ever prepared her for what she saw on the other side. A man and a woman were huddled in the corner, kissing. He was pressing her into the wall and her legs were wrapped around her waist. They didn't even react when Molly came through. There was noise everywhere. A woman ran out of one room to be followed by a man with his face painted in some kind of primitive warrior design. Molly's walking was cut off by a couple coming out of a room in front of her. The woman was trying (not very hard) to get away. The man whispered something in her ear and she giggled. She followed him back into the room. Finally Molly came to the third door on the left. She gave it a knock and was not surprised to see Irene open the door. Irene flinched back, surprised to see Molly.

"May I come in?" Molly asked, politely. Irene just nodded and opened the door. This time around, Irene was fully clothed in a red dress. Her lips were blood red and her hair was perfect. As soon as Molly had gotten into the room, Irene shut the door. Molly gave a quick glance around the room before she noticed a figure lying on the floor. Molly would have recognized his dark curls anywhere. She kneeled down to see that Sherlock seemed to have passed out.

"What happened?" Molly asked, her voice breaking a little.

Irene gave Molly a curious look. "He was asking too many questions so I drugged him."

"You what?!"

"He'll be fine. Just get him home and let him sleep."

Molly tentatively felt Sherlock's face. "He's burning up with a fever!"

"Side effect" Irene said nonchalantly.

"He could have been hurt. He could have died!"

Irene gave a chuckle. "But I knew you would come."

Molly was surprised and looked to see Irene's smug face smiling back at her. "What?"

"Look, Molly, can I call you Molly? I'm not sure what sort of…_relationship _you have with Sherlock, but whatever it is, it isn't something I've seen before. You interest him more than he is willing to admit. He's never been like this, and I think he knows it is happening to him. You are stirring up something in him that he isn't used to."

Molly looked in disbelief at Irene. 'Relationship? What relationship? There is nothing between Sherlock and me. Nothing.' She thought.

Suddenly Sherlock gave a groan."I suggest you get him home before he wakes up in here." Irene said. "There's a back door I can let you out of." Molly slowly, with the help of Irene, got Sherlock on his feet. She positioned Sherlock as comfortable as possible. His arm was resting over her shoulder and all of his body weight was on her. She had her hands around his hips for support. They slowly made their way onto the street. Thankfully, the streets were mostly deserted.

"Thank you Molly" Molly thought she heard Sherlock whisper as they hobbled towards home. But perhaps it was just her imagination.


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh dear God, what happened?" Mrs. Hudson said as she opened the door to see Sherlock leaning on Molly for support. Sherlock had lost a little bit of the grogginess induced by the drug, but he was still unable to hold himself upright.

"It's a long story Mrs. Hudson. In the meantime can you please get me a basin of cool water and a piece of cloth?" Molly heaved Sherlock in the door and Mrs. Hudson shut the door.

"What the hell is going on down there?" Molly heard John yell as he opened the door. He took one look at Sherlock and came running down the stairs. "Oh god, is he alright?"

"He should be fine in the morning. Can you help me get him up the stairs?" John nodded and laid Sherlock's other arm on his shoulder. Slowly, step by step, they made their way to the flat.

"Anything I can do, Molls?" Mary asked standing in the kitchen. Molly found it odd that she hadn't left yet considering it was too late for a 'sophisticated' single women to be seen coming out of someone's house. Molly gave a small smile. Mary had stayed because she liked a _certain person's _company.

"Can you get a bucket or something? He may heave up food or water." Mary nodded and went to rummage around the flat. John and Molly made their way to Sherlock's room. As so as they got over to the bed, they slowly set him down.

"I'm going to telegram Mycroft." John said, starting towards the door. "Do you think he will be ok?" He asked turning around. Molly could see the worry in his eyes. This was his best friend after all.

"He should be ok. The thing I'm worried about is the fever. It isn't too bad, but we need to cool him down. What he really needs is some sleep." Molly smiled. A look of relief came upon John's face. Just as he was about to leave he heard Molly whisper something.

"What did you say?"

"It's odd." She replied almost to herself. "Did this-I mean-did he ever…you know…do drugs before?" Molly asked timidly.

"Yes. He used to do it when he was younger. He's gotten better and stopped but Mycroft said it got pretty bad at one point. Sherlock doesn't like to talk about it." Molly nodded and looked back at Sherlock. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. John left just as Mrs. Hudson brought in the water. She set it down on the bedside table. She leaned over Sherlock and put her hand to his forehead. She removed it quickly and pushed some of his curls off of his sweaty forehead. As she was exiting she grabbed Molly's hand.

"Make him better for me, ok?" she whispered. Molly gulped and nodded. After Mrs. Hudson left Molly slowly moved a chair to Sherlock's bedside. She dipped the cloth in the water and after wringing it out, placed it on Sherlock's forehead. He gave a small whimpered.

"It's ok" she whispered brushing his curls. "You're going to be ok. Just go to sleep."

"Here's the bucket-oh" Mary entered with a small bucket. She got one look at Molly soothing Sherlock and slowly backed out of the door leaving it there.

Hour after hour, Molly stayed by Sherlock's side. Every time the cloth got too dry, she dipped it in the water and placed it back on his forehead. Soon he was asleep, but Molly refused to leave him. 'He might need me. I can't leave him alone like this' she would think every time she contemplated going to sleep in her room. She would let her mind wonder. She looked down after a long thought process to find that she had been mindlessly rubbing her thumb over Sherlock's hand. She thought of her childhood and her father; she thought of work and all the things she had to get done; but most of all she thought of how peaceful Sherlock looked when he was sleeping.

Sherlock awoke to an annoying light coming through his window. He opened his eyes, to immediately shut them again. He rolled away from the window and tired to open his eyes again. This time instead of being greeted by the sun, he was greeted by the sight of Molly sleeping in the chair. It was obvious by her poster that she had dozed off sometime in the night. Her neck was at and odd angle and she looked very uncomfortable sleeping there. Sherlock was struck by her loyalty. She could have left after he had fallen asleep, but she hadn't. Sherlock tried and failed to wrap his head around this concept.

'But why would she stay for me? She could have slept much better in her own bed. It was logical to leave after I had fallen asleep.' Sherlock heard her give a soft grunt as she shifted her weight in the chair, still asleep. He slowly made his way to the side of the chair.

'She can't sleep here. She needs to sleep in a bed; it's more comfortable and she will rest better.' So how was she going to get there? Sherlock didn't want to disturb her slumber, but how else would she get downstairs? Sherlock slowly put his under her, lifting her bridal style, taking care to rest her head on her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she asked groggily, not opening her eyes.

"You need to sleep" he whispered back as he pushed open the bedroom door and made his way to the living room. Everything was quite except for the constant snoring of John. He was sleeping in the chair; Mary and Mrs. Hudson were both curled up on opposite ends of the couch, blankets draped over them. It almost looked like they were standing guard. Just as Sherlock made his way to the door he heard John asked, tiredly "What the hell are you doing?"

"She needs to sleep." Sherlock replied. John took that as an answer and went back to snoring. He slowly made his way down the steps to Molly's apartment. Thankfully the door was unlocked. He made his way in, surprised by the state of it. Every inch of it was clean, except for the kitchen table. It was overcrowded with papers and files and stacks of medical books. Sherlock was surprised to find that there was even a microscope with a box of slides.

He gently set her down on top of the covers. She snuggled into the pillows and gave a sigh of relief. He took an old blanket from the closet and placed it over her. Before he could stop himself, he found that he was leaning towards her. He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams Molly Hooper" She gave a small smile in her sleep.

By the time he had gotten back to 221 B, John was fully awake. "You should thank her, you know." He whispered.

"Hmm?" Sherlock was lost in thought. What was this funny feeling he was getting?

"You should thank her, Sherlock. She saved your life." John said a little louder. Mrs. Hudson stirred and opened her eyes. When she saw Sherlock she practically jumped off of the couch, jolting Mary awake, and ran to give him a large hug.

"Glad to see your feeling better Sherlock" she put her hand on his forehead to check his temperature. "No more fever. Good; now who wants a nice cup of coffee? Mary dear?" she turned to the blonde who was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes."Yes please."

"John do you want one?"

"If you don't mind Mrs. Hudson" She gave a nod and made her way to the kitchen. "Sherlock, is Molly still in that chair? Would she like some coffee?"

"Um, no… She's downstairs in her bed, sleeping." Sherlock said, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"But how did she get down there?" Mary asked "She refused to leave your bedside."

"I took her down" he said softly, staring at his toes. John gave Mary and Mrs. Hudson a shocked looked. None of them seemed to know what to make of it. Mrs. Hudson turned back to the kitchen. When Sherlock wasn't looking, Mary turned to John.

"That's not normal right?" she mouthed.

"Not normal at all" he mouthed back.

"What's going on with those two?" she raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that said 'you think he likes her?'

John gave a shrug. "No idea."

There peaceful morning was interrupted by a crisp knock at the door. Mycroft stood there in the open doorway.

"I should like to speak with my brother" no one moved. "_Alone_"

Mrs. Hudson gave a quick nod. Mary, John, and she made their way down the stairs.

"And if you'd be so kind as to send up Ms. Hooper when she is awake, I would be most grateful" he said, closing the door.


	8. Chapter 8

"I don't see why this is necessary." Sherlock said, sitting down in his chair. After spending ten minutes ignoring Mycroft and playing his violin, Sherlock decided Mycroft wasn't going to leave.

"You were drugged by a criminal woman who does whatever she wants. Of course this is necessary." Mycroft said moodily. He didn't like to be tested and put on hold, especially not by his younger brother. "Sherlock, are you ok?"

"Really, I think this whole 'intervention' thing is stup-"

"Sherlock!" His head snapped to make eye contact with Mycroft. Concern was coming off of Mycroft like an ocean. He was actually, genially worried about Sherlock. For once, he wasn't the mastermind running the government or the spokesperson for the government. In that moment, he was just the older brother of Sherlock Holmes. "Are you ok?" he finished.

"Yes. I'm fine." Sherlock replied calmly.

"Now, down to business. Why did this Hooper girl save you?"

"How am I supposed to know? She just did."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Are you going to thank her?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock was taken aback. "What?"

"It's a simple question" Mycroft smiled "Are you going to thank her?"

"Yes, I suppose I will." Sherlock replied stubbornly.

"That's all I needed to talk with you about. Now please send Ms. Hooper up, if you will."

"I don't see why she has to talk with you."

"Just send her up." Sherlock huffed and went down the steps. Molly was waiting at the bottom, wrapped in a blanket. Her hair was a mess and she was barefoot, but with every shred of dignity she could muster up she went up the stairs to see Mycroft. She gave Sherlock a nod as she passed and she could have sworn he smiled back.

"Please close the door behind you, Ms. Hooper." Molly nodded, and after closing the door, sat down in Sherlock's chair.

"Now Ms. Hooper I am here to discuss the fact that you may have just saved my brother's life. You do understand that he has done drugs before, correct?"

"Yes." She replied meekly "John told me."

"So you do realize the seriousness of the situation. You saved my brother's life. He makes a living saving others and people are always 'repaying a debt'. My brother has never been in debt to anyone, ever. But now he owes you his life. Do you know what this means?"

"No." Molly said, after a moment's hesitation.

"Neither do I. But he owes you his life and his gratitude. I'm not sure how he will express either of those two though. He shows 'things' differently than others."

"You think he is incapable of showing me his thanks?"

"No. I think he doesn't know how to. You have awoken emotions in him that he didn't know he had. Heck, no one knew he had them."

"You think he didn't have emotions?"

"No. I think he hides them; It easy to see on certain people like John and Mrs. Hudson, that he cares for them deeply. But with others, no one can tell. When he looks at you, he gets this funny expression. It's like he's trying to solve a puzzle that keeps changing. Nothing ever truly fits together the way it's supposed to; he's not sure how he feels about you. He thinks he feels these things because you are an unsolved puzzle. There are others of us who believe it is something deeper."

"What are you trying to say Mr. Holmes?" Molly was completely and utterly confused. Why did everyone seem to think Sherlock liked her?

"Take care of him Molly Hooper." Mycroft rose and made his way to the door. "He may not always be able to express what he feels but never forget that he does feel."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Molly smiled.

"So what did he say?" Mary had followed Molly to her room and was now sitting on her bed.

"Mary, we are not going to talk about it. I want to sleep." Molly gave her a gentle push.

"Tell me what he said!"

"No! Now go away!" Molly said half heartedly.

"Ok, fine. But tell me what he said when you wake up, deal?"

"Maybe."

"Molly…."

"I did say maybe. Now, let me sleep, please." Mary nodded and walked out. Molly lay down on the bed and was soon drifting in a dreamless sleep.

Mary walked out the front door down the street to a small pub. There she meat John and Mrs. Hudson. They were both sitting at a table talking. As soon as Mary came in, John made room for her next to him.

"Well?" she asked.

"As soon as Molly came down, Sherlock went into his room. He refuses to come out and started playing the violin. He does that when he is thinking." John explained.

"Neither of them will say what Mycroft said. What's so secretive about it?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I think they are acting like children who fancy each other. Neither of them will say it though." Mary giggled.

"And neither of them will. They are both too stubborn to admit it." John smiled. "What if we give them a little push?"

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"You know, make them go to the lab together, say we have things to do so they have to eat dinner together; those sort of things."

"Do you think it will work?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I know it will." Mary and John said at the same time, smiling mischievously.

"John I need your help!" Sherlock whined. A week after the 'drug incident' as it was called, Sherlock had gotten a case and was going to St. Bart's to look at the body.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you today. I don't feel well so you will have to do it yourself."

"But I can't stand any of the workers and Anderson is going to be there." Sherlock spat out.

"Sherlock, you are going to have to get over your childish hatred for Anderson. You have to work with him. Besides, Molly is there working. "

"So?"

"So she can help you."

"I hardly doubt that-"

"Sherlock, she looks at dead bodies for a living. She'll be a perfect partner."

"Interesting choice of words" Sherlock remarked before leaving the flat and hailing a hansom.

'Stage One is complete' John smiled to himself.

"Molly can I see the body" Sherlock said, coming up behind her at the morgue.

Molly immediately dropped all of her utensils on the ground in surprise.

"Don't sneak up on me like that." She said, picking everything off the ground and making her way to the sink.

"I need to see the body of Andrew Smith. It's for a case. Can you roll him out please?"

"Sure, but I already opened him up. If you're here because his best friend says he had a heart attack, he lied. There is nothing clogging his arteries."

"So if was the best friend after all" Sherlock whispered to himself.

"What happened in the case exactly?

"Andrew's best friend was sleeping with Mrs. Smith. Andrew's friend got angry when he found out that Mrs. Smith wasn't going to leave her husband for him. So he killed his best friend."

"Doesn't that seem a bit excessive?" Molly smiled. Sherlock felt like there was a bug in his stomach fluttering about.

"Um, so why did you get to look at the body anyway?"

"It's sort of my job to" Molly blushed. "Sometimes they bring bodies down here for me to look at. It's usually because of a crime, but sometimes" she pointed to the table where a dead man was lying cut open down the middle "like in Mr. Steven's case, it's because he has a physical defect. Come see" she walked over to the table and Sherlock followed.

"See" she pointed to the heart "it's smaller than it should be and it gave out. Don't you think it's fascinating?" Sherlock noticed how her face lit up when she talked about her work. She would talk with such passion, such love, for what she did. Sherlock realized he was standing right next to her, arm to arm. It made his pulse rush and his heart beat faster.

"I have to go" he said quickly. Molly's face fell and Sherlock almost felt bad to leave, but he had to get out of there before he did something stupid.


	9. Chapter 9

"It is two in the morning Sherlock!" John yelled at the bedroom door "Do we really have to do this now?!"

"What the devil is going on?" Mrs. Hudson said, running through the door her hair hanging in a loose braid on her nightgown "I heard the shouting and thought something was wrong."

"It's two in the bloody morning and this bastard" John pointed to Sherlock's door "insists on playing the violin!"

"I need to think!" Sherlock yelled back.

"What's going on?" Molly yawned as she came up the stairs in her nightgown with a blanket around her shoulders.

"Sherlock is being an ass!" John yelled at Sherlock's room. "Sorry for cursing" He turned sheepishly to Molly.

"It's fine. What's he doing in there? I head music."

"He plays the violin when he is thinking, but it is usually during the day hours!" John yelled in the direction of Sherlock's door. Molly nodded showing she understood.

"I can play the violin whenever I want to!" Sherlock yelled back.

"You most certainly cannot! Now stop playing before I break the damn door down!" John replied. "Sorry." he turned to Molly to apologize again.

"Why are you apologizing?" Sherlock questioned.

"Because Molly is a lady and it is not polite to curse around ladies." John shot back.

Sherlock snorted "Molly is hardly a lady."

"And you, Sherlock Holmes, are hardly a gentleman." Molly replied, calmly. There was a brief silence as John and Mrs. Hudson stared at her in shock.

"I see the sweet Molly has been replaced with a much angrier one." Sherlock finally replied.

"It's two in the morning. You can be damn sure 'Sweet Molly' is gone" Molly snapped back.

"I'll go make some tea." Mrs. Hudson said quickly.

"I'll help you" added John, scampering after the old woman into the kitchen.

Sherlock waited till her heard the kettle on the stove before he began playing his violin (loudly), again. Molly's fists pounded on the door.

"Stop that! I want to sleep!" Molly said in-between he pounding fists.

"Then plug your ears!" Sherlock yelled back.

"You're acting like a child!"

"You're treating me like one!"

Molly stopped hitting the door and sighed. This was getting tiring.

"Sherlock would you please stop disturbing our sleep?" Molly said calmly. Sherlock's head peaked out of the door to stare at Molly. "What was that? I think I missed what you said?" he replied, feigning innocence.

"Please stop" she asked again. "I need my sleep. I have to be at St. Bart's at 6:00 o'clock and I would like my sleep."

"Why are you going in then?"

"Dr. Matthews had his sixth child and is taking a few weeks off. Besides, I don't get to pick the hours I work."

"They don't let the doctors pick when they will come in?"

"No, they don't let me pick. I may be a doctor, but I am still a woman. They tell me when I have to be there and I show up. Dr. Matthews asked me last week if I would mind taking over this shift."

"But you're one of the best doctors there" Sherlock blurted out. Molly's face widened in shock as a blush spread to her cheeks. "Thank you." she whispered, staring at the floor. She straightened up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she began to make her way towards the kitchen. "Do you want tea or not?" Sherlock nodded and watched her walk away. The way her nightgown hung straight on her small frame and the way her brown hair looked when it was down made him get a funny feeling. The way the blanket fell made it look like some kind of cape. And in a way, he admitted to himself, Molly did look like a queen walking in a palace. He gave a small smile and followed her to the kitchen where unbeknownst to the both of them, John and Mrs. Hudson had been listening in on the conversation.


	10. Chapter 10

Molly had fallen asleep at her desk for the second time that morning. After Sherlock had awoken everyone at two in the morning, she had found it hard to go back to sleep. It didn't really matter anyways; she had the early shift. So she had shuffled to her job, too tired to complain. The hospital staff had taken pity on her and only given her one autopsy. All she had left to do was boring paperwork. Her lack of sleep and the lack of excitement in doing paperwork had added up to an exhausted Molly.

"Molly wake up!" Molly heard a familiar voice yell as she fell off of her chair.

"Sherlock what are you doing?" Molly said rubbing her side where she had connected with the ground.

"Firstly I'm waking you up. I've heard sleeping on the job is against the rules." He stared down at her with a stern look. She felt her cheeks getting warmer. "Also I need your help. I need to see Mr. Andrews. I want to check something."

Molly sighed and said from the ground "I've already done the paper work. He's done and I'm not allowed to show him to anyone after I'm done. He is going to be prepared for burial."

Suddenly Sherlock's face underwent a drastic change. One moment Molly saw someone scolding her; now he was a completely different Sherlock. His eyes were kinder and he gave a small smile.

"Did you do something different with your hair? It looks better this way."

"If you are referring to the lack of care I put into it because I was awake at two this morning, then I will consider it a good look." She rolled her eyes, avoiding his eyes. She was not successful in trying to hide her blush from him though. "I'll show you Mr. Andrews but you only have five minutes." Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Oh, um…excuse me" Molly mumbled trying to get out of the door.

"Oh, of course." Sherlock stepped aside. "Wait for me to make sure no one is around so I don't get caught" Molly hurried out the door. After she was out of Sherlock's sight she began to shake her hand out. She was getting a funny tingling feeling where his hand had touched hers. It felt like her hand was on fire; there was so much warmth. She shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts that were threating to overtake her mind.

"Pull yourself together Molls. All he did was tell you your hair was nice. That's hardly a love confession.' Back in Molly's office, Sherlock was staring down at his hand trying to figure out why it felt so different now.

Sherlock got one glimpse of Mr. Andrews and told Molly that he was done.

"That's all? No long thought process or anything?" Molly sighed. She had done all this work for nothing.

"Obviously the brother did it. He was the only one who would have been able to get such a skilled hunting knife. He hardly even tried to cover up the murder; he was careless." Sherlock stated, staring at the wall in boredom. "Hardly an exciting case."

"You woke me up for this?"

"No, I need something else too. We are going on a trip." He began to make his way to the door.

"We? And where are _we _going exactly?"

"We as in you, me, John, Mary, and Lestrade. We have to catch the brother. He ran away to his hunting lodge up north and I have a very interesting job prospect near the hunting lodge. Your bags are packed and we have tickets for the train already."

"You didn't even ask me! Did it ever cross your mind that I had to work?!"

"I already asked if it was ok for you to take the next two weeks off. They were more than happy to let you go when they found out that meant that I wasn't going to be bothering them for two weeks. Now are you coming or not?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I like to be asked before people decide what I am going to do? I am not a puppet to be controlled."

Sherlock turned around confusion etched into his face.

"Does it really bother you that much?"

"Yes it does."

"But…But why?"

"Never mind." Molly huffed pinching the end of her nose. She could feel the headache coming. "Let's go." She made her way to the door. Sherlock was left staring at her back in confusion.


	11. Chapter 11

"I AM ON TOP OF A BLOODY TRAIN!" Molly screamed against the wind, strings of her hair waving around making it hard to see. "You dragged me to come run on the top of a moving train?! Mary and John and Lestrade all get to stay in the compartment but oh no Molly has to run on the top of the train!"

"Molly, I don't really have time for this" Sherlock yelled back pointing to the figure that was running at top speed away from them. It was hard to see details with the wind in their faces but Molly could have sworn she had seen the man somewhere. Before she could even react, Sherlock was off and running after him. With grace and ease he jumped between the train cars slowly catching up with the man. Molly sprinted right after him but when she came to the gap, she sighed and began to climb down the ladder.

'Sherlock bloody Holmes at it again.' She muttered to herself as she made her way up the other ladder.

"Why are we even chasing this guy?" Molly asked, her head popping up from the ladder "I thought the brother was at his house not on this train!"

"Long story" Sherlock yelled back, still running after the retreating figure "Different case!"

"You're doing two cases at once?"

"Not now Molly!" Sherlock tackled the figure and soon it became an all-out fist fight between the two. Molly hurried up the ladder trying to think of some way she could help Sherlock right now. Needless to say, there wasn't anything she could do. As soon as she had gotten her balance, she dusted herself off and looked up to see a low tunnel looming ahead of the quickly moving train.

"Sherlock!" she yelled trying to get his attention.

"I'm busy!" He yelled back as he was hit square in the face. There was blood on his cheek and he had a small nosebleed. The other man didn't look any better.

"Sherlock, it's really important!" she yelled back, afraid to physically drag him from the fight. There wasn't enough time for that.

"Not now Molly!"

"SHERLOCK HOLMES YOU LISTEN TO ME RIGHT NOW!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Sherlock's eyes went wide with fear and he froze with one hand holding the shirt collar of the other man with his other handed poised to punch.

"What?" Molly's response was to point at something behind Sherlock. He turned to see the tunnel approaching quickly.

"Shit." He threw the man down and began running towards Molly.

"We have to get to the back compartment!" He grabbed her by the waist and tossed her over to the other train car.

"Why can't we just go in on of theses compartments?" Molly said as Sherlock grabbed her hand and began to drag her towards the back of the train.

"John said he would go to the back of the train to meet us. Also, there is going to be less people back there. Besides, when someone looks hurt people tend to ask a lot of questions that I don't feel like answering. "

They were running as fast as they could. Molly had built up enough moment to jump between the train cars. Besides, there wasn't time for her to be careful. Soon they made it to the back.

"There isn't a ladder down! How are we supposed to get in?" Molly said, frantically. The tunnel was not more than fifty meters away.

"I'll lower you down. You open the door and help me in"

Molly nodded and soon she was balancing on a tiny board trying to get the door open. She finally just resorted to shoving her shoulder into it. The door flung open and Molly ran through the doorway. As soon as he saw Molly disappear, Sherlock began to lower himself. He got decent footing on the board before he let go. But he was unprepared for the momentum of the train as he felt himself falling back. Molly frantically grabbed his hand and yanked him into the train, causing her to fall down onto the carpeted floor of the train just as it entered the tunnel and everything went dark. Molly felt the pressure of another body lying on top of her as she tried to force herself to breath normally. She failed miserably, her breath quickening knowing who was on top of her. The light came back as the train left the tunnel and Molly found herself staring into Sherlock's eyes that were much bluer than she remembered. Sherlock watched as her face went tomato red and he could feel her pulse quicken. Sherlock cleared his throat trying to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach and the yearning to stay there and stare into Molly's eyes. He awkwardly got up and pulled Molly to her feet.

"Well this turned out to be an interesting train ride" Molly tried to lighten the mood.

Sherlock chuckled and lead the way to the compartment at the end of the train car. He knocked three times and John's friendly face appeared as he opened the door.

"What have you two been up to? Did you get in a fight Sherlock?" John asked as Sherlock and Molly made their way through the door.

"I'd call it more of a tussle" Sherlock smiled looking at Molly. She smiled back. Lestrade looked thoroughly confused looking between the Sherlock and Molly interaction and Mary's knowing smile. John had to resist the urge to tell them to get their own compartment for their pent up sexual tension.


	12. Chapter 12

"So where are we going?" Molly asked settling down next to Mary.

"Well John, Lestrade, and I am going to the hunting lodge outside Newcastle. You" he gestured to Mary and Molly "will stay at the inn while we are gone."

"How come we don't get to come with you?" Mary asked, looking slightly offended.

"Well, to be perfectly honest I think it's because you will be-"Sherlock began

"Ok that's enough on that subject" John quickly interrupted. "You two will be fine staying at the inn. I'm sure it will be a lot of fun."

Mary just huffed. "You think we're going to get in the way don't you?"

"Mary, I'm fine with-"Molly tried to interject.

"Look Mister" Mary poked Sherlock in the chest "You don't know anything about either of us."

"I know more than you could possible imagine. Tell me, is it the lack of coffee of the chemical defect that is sentiment that is making you lash out?" Sherlock said, his voice dripping with ice.

"Of course I'm stressed out!" Mary yelled back "My best friend was just on the top of a train and you don't even seem to care that she could have died! You don't care about anything but your own ego!"

"Mary stop-" Molly tried to calm her friend, but before she could Sherlock drew himself to his full height and began spitting words out as fast as he could.

"Your father was a heavy alcoholic, sometimes hitting your mother. Your grandmother urged her to leave him but she said she couldn't; blamed it on love, but it was most likely that she was pregnant with your little brother. Your father used to be a sailor before he got kicked out for starting a drunken fight. He was too much of a bum to go back to work so your mother picked up off end jobs like sewing dresses and cleaning houses to raise you and your brother, but it was too much for her; she died after two years. You went to live with your aunt while your brother went to live with your grandmother. You kept in contact and still have a good relationship with him nowadays. Did I get anything wrong?" He smiled smugly at Mary's shocked face. Everyone in the compartment had gone silent.

"Oh, and if I am right Ms. Marston, you thought I didn't know anything about you or Molly so it is only fair I tell you about her too." He turned his gaze to Molly and before anyone could stop him, he started spilling out sentences, one after the other.

"Judging by her shaking while Mary was yelling, she doesn't like fights. Maybe because there was a lot of fighting in her family, but no; this says more. She was verbally abused as a child. Since she talks about all of her immediate family in good terms it is not one of them; an aunt or uncle. My guess is a great aunt with a lot of money. Her parents were too weak to stop the bullying because they wanted to stay on the better side, to get money when the old woman passed on. But she rarely gets letters from her brother or sister and only on occasions gets them from her mother; that means she doesn't speak to them that often. Why is that? I think-"

"Stop!" Molly yelled, tears threating to come out of her eyes. All eyes were on her as she took a deep breath is before containing. "My great Aunt Beatrice was the richest in the family. She was actually my mother'sgreat aunt and had promised a large share of her land and profits to my mother in the will. But I was born she took an immediate disliking to me. You see, I look just like my father and nothing like my mother; Aunt Beatrice was always one to gossip and she got it into her head that I was not my mother's child. She truly believed that I was the product of some whore and my father's adulterous relationship. Of course that wasn't true, but she didn't care. She refused to even look at me. She told me I was dirt and nothing. Do you know how that feels?" She was crying now but she didn't care "Do you know how it feels when you are told you are worthless everyday of your life?"

Everyone just stared at her and after an excruciating minute she ran out of the compartment. Sherlock turned to go after her, but Mary gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't" she said calmly. He gave her a puzzled look, but listened to her anyway. She sat down and everyone followed her example. She gave a deep sigh.

"Sometimes we just have to let her take a moment for herself. It's been tough for her by herself for so long. She misses her dad and the rest of her family. And I'm sorry I yelled at you Sherlock." She said quietly

Sherlock just waved the apology off. "When did he die?"

"Her father died when she was ten. Her mother told me she locked herself in the attic for three hours and refused to come down. When Molly did come down, her eyes were bloodshot and red from crying. But her mother said the thing that scared her the most was the empty look on Molly's face. Molly's father had always been sweet on her especially in regards to the whole Aunt Beatrice thing."

_"Daddy! Daddy! Mummy said I could go down to the creek!" Molly Hooper, with her straight hair already messy, said as she went running into her father's arms. _

_"Can Georgie come down too?" she asked to his smiling face. His smile faded a little as he replied "I'm afraid your mother wants Georgie to meet Aunt Beatrice. But Chrissy can come with you."_

_The little girl pouted "I don't want to bring Chrissy. She always complains that it's too muddy."_

_"Come now, she's your sister. What's so bad about a little complaining?"_

_"Nothing but she's five and she pretends she knows everything and she doesn't know half the stuff I know. I'm only a year older than she is , but she thinks she is smarter than me." _

_Matthew Hooper smiled down at his frowning daughter. _

_"Please bring Chrissy with you. I'm sure it will be fun." _

_"Fine" Molly huffed "But if she complains once I'll….I'll…I'll do something"_

_Mathew let out a small laugh and watched as the tension disappeared from his daughter's face at his smile. _

_"You take care of your sister down there. You know how she would hate to get wet." He gave her a small pat before he walked into the house. As soon as he was out of sight, Molly went running around the yard trying to find her sister._

_"Chrissy!" She yelled as she ran "Where are you Chrissy?"_

_"Molly, it isn't ladylike to yell like that." She heard a voice scold from the garden. Molly gave a mischievous grin as she rounded to corner to see her little sister sitting prettily on a bench, playing with her dolls. It was amazing the contrast between Christine and Molly. Christen was fair-haired and skinned, with blue eyes like the ocean on a warm day. He mouth created a pretty pout and she looked like a porcelain doll sitting there in the garden with her gentle curls surrounding her face. Molly on the other hand, had freckles, and her brown hair hung was tied back with loose hair sticking to her face. Her eyes resembled metaling chocolate and gave you a warm feeling. Unlike Christine, who looked stoic and prim, Molly looked free and happy. Her face gave the impression that there were few times when she was not smiling. Molly sauntered up to her sister and stood before her, hands on her hips. _

_"Daddy says I have to take you down to the creek while he and Mummy says hello to Aunt Beatrice."_

_"He did not!" The little girl insisted. "You're not supposed to lie Margret." Christine always called Molly by her given name because she knew it annoyed her. Molly's stuck her tongue out in response._

_"Besides" Christine continued "I don't want to get dirty."_

_"Oh come on Chrissy, it'll be lots of fun" Molly began pulling her sister's hand and dragging her towards the woods behind the house. _

_"It's muddy back there. We are going to get dirty!" Christine whined. _

_"So?" Molly smiled and ran. She could hear Christine following after her, complaining with every step. As Molly stepped, she hated to admit it to herself, but Christine had been right; the much was already splattered on her boots and the hem of her dress. Christine came to the edge of the trees._

_"I don't think this is a good idea, Molly. We should go back. You could fall and get hurt."_

_"I'll be fine" Molly said, as her foot slipped and she fell flat on her back, running her dress. She could feel the mud squish around her and felt it ooze into her hair. _

_"Molly!" Christine yelled, trying to make sure Molly was ok. _

_"I'm fine Chrissy" Molly sat up, testing her limbs. Her head hurt a little and there was some mud in her eye, but otherwise she was unharmed._

_"Margret! Christine!" Molly heard her mother's faint yell. She looked down at the state and sighed inwardly before scrambling up and running towards her mother's voice; Christine followed closely behind. They both rounded the corner and almost ran into their brother, George, and their mother. George gave a small giggle at Molly's dress; her mother looked horrified but before she could do anything, Matthew and Beatrice came around the corner. Beatrice was dressed in a dark blue dress that hugged her small figure. Her dark hair was dotted with white and was in a tight bun atop her head. Her eyes came to rest on Christine and Molly. She looked like a hawk inspecting her prey. She smiled kindly at Christine but when she looked at Molly's soiled dress her nose rose in disgust. _

_"Who is this little beast?" She said with distain. She leaned away from Molly, trying to make some distance between herself and the muddy child _

_"This little _beast's _name is Margret" Molly replied, glaring. Beatrice's eyes rose in disgust._

_"You should teach Margret better manners, Elizabeth" She addressed Molly's mother. "Tell her not to talk back to her elders." Beatrice bent down to look Molly in the eyes._

_"Do you understand how rude that was, little girl? _Never do it again" _she threatened, pinching Molly's chin between her thin hands. Molly swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly nodded. She knew from that moment on that she wasn't going to like Aunt Beatrice. _


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked timidly approaching Molly. She was sitting on the bed at the inn dressed in her nightgown. Her hair was in a simple braid and the only light source in the room was a small candle. Molly had spent the rest of the train ride out in the hallway and when she and Mary had taken the carriage to the inn, her face was blank. Her head was completely hidden in her hands but she looked up when she heard his voice, her tears still drying.

"I'm better now." She replied simply.

"Oh" Sherlock said awkwardly. He began to make his way out the door.

"Sherlock" He turned around to look at Molly "thank you for checking on me" He gave her a nod and closed the door.

"Come on Molly! Hurry up." Molly huffed, lagging behind. Since John had refused to help Sherlock (He said that he was going to take this trip as a vacation) and Sherlock wouldn't work with Lestrade ("He asks too many questions" Sherlock had grumbled) Molly was now following him through town.

"Where in the world are we going?" Molly asked.

"Why to the farmhouse, of course" Sherlock explained, looking at her like she was an idiot.

"What farmhouse?"

Sherlock huffed and turned swiftly turned around causing Molly to bump into him.

"Three people have disappeared, but none of the disappearance are linked, or so everyone thinks. All three of the people have one thing in common. They all went to visit Mr. Collins, the famer who supplies everyone with milk. So we are going to visit him."

"Do you and John usually visit the suspect?"

"Yes!" Sherlock snapped and began walking faster. By the time Molly caught up to his long strides they were on the outskirts of town. The mud from the recent rain was covering Molly's boots and splattered on the hem of her blue dress. The wind whipped at her face and as she look at the dreary sky she couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

"Hello sir. I was wondering if I could come in. The weather's looking pretty bad and we are far from town." Sherlock said to the old man at the door. Sherlock and Molly had walked in silence to the farmhouse. By the time they had gotten there it was way past one o'clock. The wind had picked up and Molly's stomach was growling for food. The walk had taken a lot long than Molly had anticipated and she hadn't brought any lunch for herself.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked gesturing to both Molly and Sherlock.

"I'm Mr. Smith and this is my…um, my friend Ms. Williams." Sherlock replied, pointing to Molly.

The man looked them both up and down. "I'd like to have a friend like her." he said, but let them both in.

"I'm Mr. Collins since you had the audacity not to ask." He grumbled. "You two can stay in here for a little bit, but no longer than half an hour. I don't need people hanging around my house."

Sherlock nodded and followed Mr. Collins into the kitchen.

"Would either of you like a cup of tea or a biscuit?" Mr. Collins asked. Before Molly could reply Sherlock responded with a "No thank you." Mr. Collins caught a quick glance at Molly's glare that went unnoticed by Sherlock. He gave her a plate and a large biscuit that she quickly scarfed down.

"So what are you two doing here? I've never seen you around." Mr. Collins asked.

"We're visiting an old friend in town." Sherlock replied, trying to sound as interested as possible.

Mr. Collins nodded, noticing Sherlock's change in mood. He turned to Molly and asked "So you just decided to take a walk?"

"Yeah. I thought it sounded like fun, and I dragged him along." Molly smiled. "He was less than enthusiastic." She turned to see Sherlock glaring at her. "So, do you live out here by yourself?" Molly asked, ignoring Sherlock.

"No. Mrs. Collins is out visiting her mother. So, I'm alone with the cows."

"Would you mind if I went out to the barn to see the cows. I've never seen milk cows before." Sherlock suddenly asked.

"It's an odd request, but I suppose so." Mr. Collins got up and led both of them out to the barn behind the house. The sky had darkened and rain was now inevitable. Sherlock took one look at the barn and the cows and moved to leave. "Thank you." He said to Mr. Collins and began heading out.

"That's all? You're easily entertained." Mr. Collins shrugged.

Sherlock nodded and took Molly's hand "Come on. We have to get back soon"

"Goodbye." Molly waved back as Sherlock dragged her away "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Not a problem" Mr. Collins saved back smiling. When they were out of earshot Molly stopped short. "What was that?" she asked annoyed. "Why the sudden departure?"

"He didn't kill any of the people." Sherlock snapped and began walking again, dropping Molly's hand. She gave a sad look down at her hand that was now cold without Sherlock's warmth.

"Someone's in a bad mood" she whispered to herself.

"What?" Sherlock called back.

"Nothing." Molly huffed and began walking. "We have about five minutes before we get rained on." She told Sherlock. And sure enough the heavens soon released their wrath upon Sherlock and Molly. It took two seconds before both of them were soaked to the bone.

"There's no way we're are going to make it back to the inn!" Molly yelled over the pounding rain.

"We have to try!" Sherlock yelled back and began running down the mud road. Molly raced after him, running as fast as she could to keep up. Mud was all over her shoes and all over her dress. Her hair was coming loose and sticking to her face. Every breath she took got more and more rain water into her mouth. Lightning began to flash and thunder began to sound.

"We have to get out of the rain! We'll never make it!" Molly yelled.

Sherlock stopped to consider her words. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his curls surrender his face making it hard to see his expression. "There's an old country inn down the road for travelers. I think that will be out best bet."

Molly nodded and followed him down the road. By now her hair was completely down and stuck to her face. She remember her sister once telling her that she looked like a drowned cat whenever she got wet and began to feel very self-conscious.

"Hurry up Molly!" Sherlock called back. "We're almost there."

Molly sighed and followed after Sherlock. Soon they were walking through a doorway and into a low lit room. Sherlock approached the old woman at the desk. "Can you tell me what time it is?"

"It's about five thirty, dear." The woman replied sweetly.

"Is there any quick way back to town?" Sherlock asked.

"'Fraid not. A tree went down on the road and now even carriages can't get through to town. You'll have to wait till morning." Suddenly she noticed Molly standing by the wall. "Is this your wife? She's very pretty."

"Oh no, we're not-"Molly began.

"Yes. She is. Can we please have a room for the night?" Sherlock interrupted. Molly's eyes went the size of plates. When the woman turned away to get them a key she whispered urgently "What are you doing?"

"Do you have any money?" Sherlock retorted. Molly shook her head. "That's what I thought. I only have enough for one room and besides, if we weren't married people might talk."

"Talk?"

"It's one thing that a man and a woman take walks as friends, but it is another thing if they sleep in the same room. This isn't a large town and I imagine word travels quite fast. So are you coming or not." Sherlock snatched the key and followed the woman up the stairs.

"Ok" Molly replied quietly. "Today is going differently than I thought it would".


	14. Chapter 14

"Molly, you need to sleep." Sherlock said sitting on the edge of the small bed. The old woman (Mattie she had told them) was more than happy to give them some old clothes. She insisted that she would hang their wet clothes to dry down in the kitchen while she lent them some dry garments. Sherlock had gotten her son's old trousers. They were loose on him and cut off mid-calf. Molly had gotten on of Mattie's old nightgowns. Mattie was much larger than Molly, so the nightgown hung off of Molly's shoulder. It hung loosely on her frame and rested on her feet.

"I'll just stand over here for now, if you don't mind." Molly replied looking at the ground. She had gotten one look at Sherlock's bare chest and refused to take her eyes off of the wood floor.

"Molly, you can't stand there forever. You'll have to come into the bed eventually." Sherlock rolled his eyes and leaned back onto the bed.

"Nope. I'll stand here. The floor looks quite nice."

"There is no need to be that way." Sherlock snapped sitting up "Now come over here; you look like your freezing."

"I'm fine. And why do you care?" Molly snapped back, looking up. "You've dragged me across the countryside, let me get stuck in the rain and you didn't seem to care!"

"We're going to do this now?" Sherlock sighed and went to rub the bridge of his nose.

"You could have brought John-"

Sherlock laughed bitterly. "Have you seen him lately? He's too busy drooling over Mary Marston. I'd be surprised if they aren't married within the month"

"What about Lestrade?" Molly shot back. "He could have come."

"Don't be ridiculous, Molly" he shot back, harshly "He's an idiot"

"He's your friend!"

"He asks too many questions! He's a part of Scotland Yard which means I can't work freely. I do what I have to do to get the culprit and sometimes that involves questionable things. Besides, it's one thing for a woman and man to walk unsupervised together. It makes it seem like they are courting. It's another thing if two men are walking together."

"Why is that so bad?"

"People talk." He shot back.

"So it's ok if they talk about me?!"

"Yes, it is" he replied stubbornly. "That's why we're up here, away from everyone, you know. Mattie didn't want others to hear us 'making a baby', if you understand me." Molly's face went tomato red and she looked down at the ground again. "Besides, with the small size of this town, I'd be surprised if you aren't already rumored to be pregnant." He added in a hushed voice

"I'M NOT OK WITH THAT!" she yelled. Sherlock's eyes went wide. "I don't want to whole town to talk about us! Mr. Collins will might tell everyone that we aren't married! That could ruin my reputation!"

"What reputation?" Sherlock snorted back. "You cut dead bodies up for a living. You hardly have a gentlewoman reputation. Besides, no one here knows our real names."

"They know what I look like, don't they?" Molly replied.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Why do you care? Is it really that bad to be hypothetically in a relationship with me? Am I really that horrid?" He lowered his voice at the last part and stared at her. There was a new look in his eyes; something she hadn't seen before. He almost looked hurt.

"It's not that…It's just…No, you're not." She smiled shyly. "You're not horrid at all. I've just had a long day and I needed to take my frustrations out on someone" She replied glumly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"It's fine." Sherlock said and patted next to him on the bed. She relented and walked over to lay beside him. "Thank you, by the way" he said as she laid down. He covered her with the blankets. They were lying face to face and Molly could feel his warm breath. "What you said was very kind." He began to wrap his arms around her.

"What-what are you doing?" She flushed.

"Trying to get warm." He replied simply. "The closer you are, the more body heat we share. I decided that you would like this better than the alternative" Molly could have sworn she could see him blushing.

"What's the alternative?" Molly asked, curious.

Now the blush was unmistakable. "It would involve a lot more…skin to skin contact" He replied simply, gauging Molly's reaction. He swears to this day, her face had never gone so red. He pulled her closer, keeping his arms around her.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, staring at the wall.

"Yes, I'm fine." He heard her say. She wrapped her hand around his back. "This is quite warm." She yawned.

"Get some sleep Molly." Sherlock whispered, subconsciously rubbing her back.

"mmmmmhhhmmmm" she replied, her eyelids heavy. Soon enough, she fell into a peaceful sleep. Sherlock looked down at her petite form snuggled into his chest. He felt a funny feeling in his stomach that he had come to associate with Molly. The funny feeling had been coming more and more often, and Sherlock was beginning to worry about what it meant. He wanted to stop the funny feeling, but at the same time, every time he got the feeling he suddenly felt incredibly happy. It had a stronger effect on his mind than any drug ever had. And as he looked down at Molly's sleeping form, he suddenly wanted to stop time so he would never have to more on from this moment. He had the sudden urge to kiss her. 'Where did that come from?' he thought. 'Why would I want to kiss her?' He was startled when she moved in her sleep, edging closer to him. He smiled down at her, moving a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Goodnight Molly." He kissed her forehead "Sweet dreams."


End file.
